She’s Not Heavy; She’s My Sister

I met this girl, some 15 years ago. A girl so happy doing her own thing, not really giving anyone else a second thought. A girl so different than I was.

A girl who was my other half.

Not in the romantic sense, but in the soul mate way. She was the sister this only child had always dreamed of having. The one who knew all of my secrets. Who judged me by none of them and loved me anyway. The one person I knew I could count on for anything. The one person who has been my rock through SO much. Always there; always present; always loving.

She made high school fun, when it was anything but. She is lighthearted, fun loving and just the person to lift you up when you stumble. She isn’t perfect. Far from it. She stumbles, makes me cringe sometimes with her decisions and drives me absolutely bonkers with the way she refuses to stick up for herself. But it’s a ying and yang thing. We balance each other as needed. We give the other confidence, perspective and the ability to see our self as the other does.

So it only goes to stand that when I find myself at my lowest or a little lost, hers is the first number I think of. And we don’t talk over text. Not the important stuff. No, that’s reserved for late night chats. (Thanks to K for making that happen!)

She honestly knows me better than I know myself most times. When she gives me advice I tend to listen and when I don’t, I regret it. Most times.

It’s funny really. Sometimes I don’t need the advice. Sometimes I just need to pour my heart out to the one person who knows me well enough that they need no explanation.

And it’s because she’s so amazing that she’s my best friend. The woman I’ll drop everything for. The woman I couldn’t imagine getting married without.

We may not agree on everything, others may never understand our friendship and that’s ok. No one needs to understand it. It’s our quirkiness. It works for us. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.